


Never Before

by audrey_cooper



Series: Never Say Never [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Like Whoa, Sexual Fantasy, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2027958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audrey_cooper/pseuds/audrey_cooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What led up to Never Say Never? A series of short scenes that help 'flesh out' the circumstances.... </p><p>Originally posted December, 1996 - January, 1997</p><p>This is a prequel to Never Say Never. You don't have to read that for  this to make sense, but it sure would make me happy if you read it anyway!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Originally posted December 1996

********************************************************************

She was perched on the edge of his desk, a file folder in her hands, one foot on the floor, the other swinging lazily. He nodded absently as she spoke, the words blurring; the rich, husky sound of her voice becoming a counterpoint to the whisper of silk against silk. It made his palms itch to touch her, to push her oh-so-sensible skirt up over to her legs, and he tormented himself with the dilemma: did she wear stockings or pantyhose? The smooth rasp of silk raised the fine hairs on his arms along with his internal temperature. 

Would her starched facade crumble if he suddenly pulled her around to face him and insinuated himself between her legs? Would she slap him angrily? He didn't think so. Push him away with gentle hands, remonstrate him? Quite possible. 

Or would she bury her hands in his hair and pull his mouth down to meet her ripe lips? He would bend her back over his arm; kiss and bite at those lips, until her lashes fluttered closed, until she was twisting beneath him, until she was moaning. 

Oh, God. This had to stop. _That_ would never happen, _could_ never happen. He abruptly pushed his chair forward into the space under the desk to hide the erection tenting his slacks, and dropped his face into his hands to cool his burning cheeks.

* * * * *

She said his name, questioning. He yanked his gaze up to meet hers, a faint flush on his face, his eyes dilated, his mouth slightly open. She leaned toward him, reaching out and touching his shoulder lightly, asking, "Are you all right?" The subtle scent of lily of the valley came to him from the pulse point that beat at her wrist.

"Fine," he answered, the corners of his mouth turning up wryly. "You were saying...."

_____

End

S: "The very idea of intelligent alien life is not only astronomically improbable, but at its most basic level, downright anti-Darwinian."  
M: "Scully? What are you wearing?"  
The X-Files, War of the Coprophages


	2. Chapter 2

Originally posted December, 1996

********************************************************************  


Oh God. He was doing it again. 

He was sprawled in his desk chair, formulating his report, collar undone, sleeves rolled up, tie pulled down. He took a pencil from his desk and tapped it meditatively against his mouth. His eyes were unfocused, their color indeterminate behind the lenses of the glasses that were perched, forgotten, on his nose. She watched him nibble on the inside of his lower lip, a habit that was driving her slowly but surely insane. 

Were his lips as soft as they looked? She could lean over, lick at them, discover _his_ taste beneath the salt and sweet, sunflower seeds and iced tea. Would he turn from her? She didn't think so. Would he shake his head and extenuate; let her down easy? Quite possible. 

Or would he toss his glasses on the desk carelessly and open his mouth to her? She would suck that wonderfully pouty bottom lip into her mouth, explore the heat within. She shifted slightly in her seat and shivered deliciously. Slow and easy at first, then hard and fast and deep and....

* * * * *

He was distracted from his musings by her rapid, shallow breathing. She was slowly and sensuously rubbing her bottom lip, a small smile on her face, her eyes half closed. He said her name softly, and she flinched as if struck, the hand that had been at her face falling to her lap. 

"Something wrong?" he asked. 

She tore her eyes from his lips forcibly, and told herself firmly that she was not going to do this to herself any more. _That_ was _never_ going to happen.

"No, no, I'm fine," she said faintly, dropping her eyes quickly as she rose. "I'm going to get a cup of coffee. Want some?" 

_____

End

S: "Mulder?"  
M: "Yeah?"  
S: "What's in your pocket?"  
The X-Files, D.P.O.


	3. Chapter 3

Originally posted January, 1997

********************************************************************

She stopped typing and slid one hand beneath her hair, rubbing the back of her neck. Turning sideways in her chair, she glanced his way. He looked down quickly at the bed he was sitting on, watching her covertly from behind the reflective screen of his glasses. He could think of much better reasons for tension in a motel room - hell, in _any_ room with her in it - than typing reports.

She shrugged off her jacket, then, bringing both hands to the small of her back, she closed her eyes and stretched luxuriantly. Her breasts swelled with her deep indrawn breath, which covered his own short, sharp intake of air. He hadn't known -- she was wearing a black bra beneath her thin cream short-sleeved top.

He stared down at the words of his scribbled handwritten notes as they blurred into insensibility, hieroglyphics with no meaning. Was that bra satin, or silk? Was it lace? He could get up, put his hands on her shoulders. Trace patterns on the ribbed cotton that covered that bra. Glide his hands over the smooth planes of her collarbone and down, over the rise of her breasts; feel her nipples go taut and hard under his palms....

He stifled a groan and pulled off his glasses, dropping them on top of his notes. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to wipe away the images his mind had wrought. That was never going to happen. _Never_. 

* * * * *

"Where are you going?" she asked as he suddenly rose from the bed, bent, and snatched up his jacket and notes.

"Going to take a shower, then sack out for the night," he answered, his voice ragged, holding the jacket in front of him. A _cold_ shower. "Good night."

_____

End

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: Thanks, as always, to DP for beta reading and for her wonderful comments, encouragement and inspiration. Special thanks to B for his encouragement and support. 
> 
> I would appreciate feedback in any shape or form.So, please, let me know what you think...
> 
> Disclaimer: No one is mentioned by name, so... no disclaimer here.
> 
> M: "It's lace."  
> S: "Chantilly Lace?"  
> M: "You know what I like."  
> The X-Files, Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose


End file.
